


Waving At A Window

by PorpentinaEsther



Category: Mary Poppins (Movies), Mary Poppins - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, Movie: Mary Poppins Returns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-05 07:51:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17320955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorpentinaEsther/pseuds/PorpentinaEsther
Summary: The development of Jane and Jack's relationship, set post-Mary Poppins Returns. (Title may change!)





	1. Chapter One

Jack had always thought there was a simple beauty to be found in lamp-lighting.

Matches carried in pockets, struck cleanly on sandpaper, passed their tiny flames onto the ends of Leeries’ poles; they reached above the heads of passers-by to light their way, brightening the streets and alleys underneath the lovely London sky.

Streetlamps all across the city were very much the same. They were the same shape, painted the same colour, they all most certainly worked in the same way. But Jack, like every Leerie worth his salt, knew that there were subtle differences from one to the next: the lamp on the corner of Charing Cross, for example, seemed to burn oil more quickly than the others and needed topping up more often; the one beside the gate in Russell Square had somehow been bent a little over the years, and you had to hold the pole at an angle to catch the wick; and the lamp on Cherry Tree Lane, for some peculiar reason, never quite seemed to want to light, and needed to be worked at for a minute extra every evening.

Jack didn’t mind spending the extra moments on Cherry Tree Lane. It was right outside Number Seventeen.

He propped his ladder up that evening, making sure it was stable before he climbed, glancing over at the Banks family home as he worked. It had been a few days since Mary had left them. He’d seen her, umbrella in hand, disappearing just beyond the clouds. He remembered seeing a similar sight as a boy. As he watched her go this time, he thought of dear old Bert, younger then, smiling through the soot on his face and telling him that she’d be back. If ever the wind would blow correctly, of course.

Bert had been right back then, Jack supposed.

He Just as the lamp took light, another came on inside the upstairs window of the house. He lingered at the top of his ladder, waiting for a moment as he watched a shadow move behind the curtains, then let out a breath as he saw them drawn back. Jane Banks gave him a smile and waved. He waved back, just as they had done as children, and tried not to worry about how gormless his grin might look to her – he couldn’t help how wide it was.

She seemed to laugh a little before she backed away from the window and out of Jack’s sight. He watched the window for a few seconds more – just in case she came back – before he clambered back down to the pavement. He often reminisced about old Bert while he tended the lamps on this street, and especially when Jane saw him. Bert had always scolded him in jest when he’d waved up there as a boy: “ _Don’t go gettin’ grand ideas, Jack, my boy. The Bankses ain’t no sweeps or screevers. They ain’t like you and me_.”

He’d just laughed as a boy, waved once more before running to catch up, brushes and buckets in tow. But now he knew that Bert had been right. He still was, all these years later; that even though the Slump had not been kind to the Banks family, they were still a family of well-to-do bankers, and Jack was – well, Jack was on the bottommost rung.

“Is it frightening climbing up those ladders all the time?”

Jack almost tripped over his bike as the small voice startled him from his musing. He whipped around, knocking it against the base of the lamppost in clumsy confusion. As he stilled himself, he was met by a rather wide-eyed Georgie Banks, standing in the doorway of his home across the street.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, Mister Jack,” the little boy said. “I just wanted to know. I never got to ask you about it before.”

Jack softened, and smiled at the child. “S’no problem, Georgie. And to answer your question – nah, it ain’t scary. I ain’t never fallen off,” he puffed his chest a little, earning a little laugh from the boy. “I knows what I’m doing.”

Georgie grinned. “Do you like being a Leerie?”

“I does indeed,” Jack nodded, walking across the road to lean against the fence at the front of the Banks’ garden.”Ain’t no happier blokes than us Leeries, ya’ know.”

“Really? But Auntie Jane says things aren’t good for people who do jobs like you do.”

Jack ignored the little jolt in his stomach at the mention of Jane’s name. “Was she tellin’ you about her marches, then?”

“She says she sees you at them,” Georgie nodded. “She says you never miss a single one.”

Of course the little boy was right, but Jack wasn’t expecting to hear it put so bluntly, in such a way that only a child could. He laughed it off and said, “Well, that’s true. Important stuff your Auntie does, Georgie.”

“She likes seeing you there!” He piped up. “I’d like to see you too, Jack – can I come to a march with you both?”

He smiled gently. “I thinks you’re a little young to be worryin’ yourself with all of that, Georgie. But you can always say hello to me, ya’ know. I’ll be round in the mornin’ to put the lamps out, like always.”

“Can I come out and watch you do it?”

“Course, if ya’d like to. Just ask your father, make sure he says s’alright for ya’ to come outside.”

Georgie nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning, then! I’ll bring Gilly.”

“You tell Gilly I’ll be waitin’.”

Georgie giggled. “Goodnight, Mister Jack,” he said cheerfully as he turned the knob on the front door – with some effort, as it was a heavy door for a small boy – and disappeared back inside.

Jack scratched his head, chucking quietly to himself as he turned and walked back across the road to pick up his things. He loaded his pole and ladder quickly onto his bicycle and threw his leg over the saddle, ready to be on his way, when he just happened to look upwards.

He caught a glimpse of Jane, closing the curtain quickly as if trying to pretend she’d not been there at all. She must’ve been watching him speak with her nephew – and Jack could have sworn he saw her giggling just before the curtain fell shut.

That night, Jack the Leerie kicked off from the kerb, and cycled home a very happy man indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written fanfiction for a few years, but I saw this gorgeous film today and couldn't help myself. I've always loved Mary Poppins so dearly, and the new movie didn't disappoint. Specifically, I've fallen so in love with Jack the Leerie - and I'd love for him to fall in love as well. (Heehee!)  
> I hope you liked the film as much as I did, and I hope you enjoy my little musings on these characters. Forgive me if I've lost the knack for fic - it's been quite a while!


	2. Chapter Two

“Mister Jack! Mister Jack!”

The wheels of Jack’s old bicycle trundled loudly on the cobblestones of Cherry Tree Lane, but he heard the little voice above the racket nonetheless. As he rounded the corner he looked up, matching a sight to the sound: little Georgie, hanging out the window of the Banks’ nursery, shouting down to the pavement below.

“G’mornin’, Georgie,” Jack greeted him, cycling the last few paces singlehanded so he could wave back at the boy.

“Daddy says I can come out and watch!” Georgie called. “I’m coming now!”

He had disappeared from the window by the time Jack could look up. He did, however, see Annabel, still in her nightgown, coming to close the window her little brother had left lying open.

“Ellen says we mustn’t let a chill in,” she called down to Jack in way of explanation. She gave him a little wave, and added, “I hope you’re well, Jack.”

He tipped his hat to her as she closed the window, and turned his attention to loading the ladder off of his bike. He propped it steadily against the lamp, just in time to hear the door of Number Seventeen slam shut, followed by the swing of a gate.

“’Ello, ‘ello,” Jack crouched down to Georgie’s height and ruffled then child’s hair. He spotted the toy underneath his arm, and scratched its head as well. “And ‘ello to you too, Mister Gilly.”

“We came to see you put the lights out.”

“Indeed you did,” Jack nodded. “I ‘ad a better idea, though. How’d ya’ like to have a go yourself, little Leerie?”

Georgie’s face lit up. “Can I really?”

“’Course!” Jack grinned. “You just ‘ave to promise to be careful. We don’t want ‘ya fallin’ on your loaf a’ bread.”

“My what?”

“Your _head_ , of course!”

Georgie laughed, full of glee, jumping up and down. “I’ll be careful, Mister Jack. I promise!”

“Alright then,” Jack stood up and reached down to pick up the little boy, placing him on his shoulders. “Comfy up there?” he asked, before carefully climbing just two rungs on the ladder, just high enough so that Georgie could reach and no more.

“What must I do?”

“Ya’ see that little hook at the top of the pole?” Jack felt more than saw Georgie nod his head. “All ‘ya have to do is turn it – gently, now – and the light goes out. Magic, eh?”

The hook squeaked ever so slightly, audible in the keenly-focussed silence the boy was dedicating to his new responsibility. Surely, the light diminished, before disappearing altogether as the wick was extinguished.

Georgie clapped his hands. “I did it!”

“Indeed you did,” Jack congratulated him, climbing carefully back down until they stood once more on the pavement, before he reached Georgie off his shoulders and placed him back on the ground. “You’s a _proper_ Leerie, now.”

“Can I do it again tomorrow, Miser Jack?”

Jack chuckled. “Well, maybe not quite tomorrow. But as a special treat, sometime again soon. That sound alright?”

Georgie nodded cheerfully, and Jack looked at him fondly. He had such a big heart for such a little one, Jack thought. He wondered if he’d been anything like Georgie Banks when he’d been a child himself. In one sense, of course he hadn’t; working on the London streets had not been a special treat for Jack, it had been his daily bread. But in another sense, he thought perhaps they mightn’t be so different; Jack liked to think of himself as goodhearted, kind, as much a lover of a laugh as little Georgie.

He pushed the thought from his mind, as he noticed the hands which still clutched Gilly had become sooty from handing the dirty lamp. Crouching down again, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and took one of Georgie’s hands, wiping away the grime as best he could. “Can’t send ‘ya back to your father lookin’ all dirty, can I?”

“Oh, never worry about the mess.”

Jack looked up, almost startled by the voice appearing out of nowhere. Sure enough, Michael Banks himself was standing just at the garden gate, watching the pair. He seemed amused, at least.

“Mister Banks, sir,” Jack straightened himself up. “Georgie here wanted to see ‘ow the lamps work.”

“So I believe! Thank you for entertaining him, Jack. I’m sure he enjoyed himself.”

“I turned the lamp out all by myself, Father!” Little Georgie chimed as he ran towards Michael. “Jack showed me how and I did it!”

“Did you indeed?” Michael replied as he stroked his son’s hair, flashing a knowing grin at Jack. “Well, I’m sure you’re exhausted from the achievement – Ellen says your breakfast is ready.”

After giving his father a quick hug, Georgie ran inside, Gilly still trailing behind him. Jack chuckled as he reached for his ladder, folding it shut and ready to be loaded back on the bike.

Instead of going back inside, Michael crossed the street towards him. “I did mean it, Jack. Thank you for being kind to Georgie.”

“Ain’t no bother,” Jack replied, honestly. “Ya’ got a good kid, Mister Banks. Actually – ya’ got three of ‘em. I’m glad to entertain ‘em anytime they want me.”

“I’m sure they’ll greatly appreciate it,” Michael smiled. “Actually, Jack  – would you like to join us for breakfast? There’s plenty to go around.”

“That’s awful kind, Mister Banks. But ‘ya know I wouldn’t like to trouble ‘ya.”

“Please, call me Michael,” he said. “And really, it’s no trouble. Jane is still staying with us, so the more the merrier, I suppose.”

Jack made very sure not to allow any change in his expression at the mention of Jane. “Well,” he began. “I s’pose some breakfast would be lovely, if you’re sure it ain’t no bother.”

Michael smiled. “Of course! Any friend of Mary Poppins is a friend of ours. Do, come inside.”

Leaving his bicycle propped against the lamppost, Jack followed Michael Banks inside the house. He’d only been inside very briefly before, just the once while helping the family move their things outside, when they thought they’d been leaving.

“I just have to fetch something from upstairs, I’ll just be a moment…” Michael fumbled as they stood in the hallway. “The kitchen’s just through there – ah, even better! Jane can show you!”

Jack’s head whipped around towards the parlour door. Sure enough, there she was: Jane Banks, standing in the doorway with a surprised smile on her face.

“Why, Jack! Hello,” she said.

Embarrassingly, he stuttered, “E-‘ello, Miss Banks.”

“Jack is joining us for breakfast,” Michael explained. “Do show him to the table, won’t you, Jane?”

With that, Michael scurried upstairs, leaving Jack in the hallway with Jane. The pair just stood for a moment, unsure of what to say, though not uncomfortable.

“I, uh – I was showin’ Georgie how the lamps work. He asked to watch, ‘ya see,” Jack tried to be nonchalant.

“I’m sure he had a wonderful time,” she grinned. “Though I’m sure he’s worn you out – he’s a handful, our Georgie. Are you hungry?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say no, if there’s food to be had.”

“Good! Follow me, then, and we’ll join the children,” she led the way through the door at the back of the hallway, through the family kitchen. “You’ll like Ellen’s food, I’m sure. I love coming home for her cooking. Michael doesn’t know how lucky he is.”

Jack laughed. “Well, it don’t take much to impress me. Compared with my own awful cookin’ I’m sure it’ll be like Buckin’am Palace.”

Jane stopped and turned to look at him – fondly, did Jack dare assume? Her shoulders softened as she tilted her head, and her eyes had such a special sparkle to them. For a second, Jack didn’t even notice the little voices calling.

“Jack! You came back!” he looked up as Georgie’s shouts snapped his attention towards the table.

“What are you doing here, Jack?” John asked.

Jane pulled out a chair in between John and Georgie, facing Annabel, and motioned for Jack to sit down. “Your father invited Jack to join us for breakfast this morning, as a special treat,” she told them, much to their delight. She sat herself down at one of the ends of the table, just as Michael re-entered and sat himself at the other end.

Ellen appeared in the doorway from the kitchen carrying a tray of bread; she was humming a tune, but stopped dead in her tracks as she noticed Jack at the table. “Oh, good morning!” she chimed, _too_ enthusiastically. “What a nice surprise – isn’t it, Jane?”

Jack didn’t fail to notice the not-so-subtle look she threw at Jane, nor the way Jane’s cheeks coloured slightly. He ducked his head, trying to hide a smile, and hoped his own cheeks weren’t colouring to match. He composed himself quickly, and looked up just as Ellen sat herself next to Annabel; he began to wonder how many housekeepers ate with their employers in homes like the Banks’, but decided, simply, that the Banks were not a typical family.

All three of the children began helping themselves to the food on the table immediately. “Don’t be shy,” Michael instructed Jack, reaching for a plate himself. “I’m afraid you’ll have to compete with John for the eggs.”

They ate in comfortable silence for a few moments, the strange collection of dining guests, while Ellen quietly tutted at Annabel for spilling porridge down her dress. “Never worry, Ellen, it’s only a frock,” Jane soothed.

John piped up through a mouthful of toast, “What’s happening today?”

“I’m working at the bank from noon,” Michael said. “Jane?”

“I’ll be at the soup kitchen tonight. But before that, I’m going out to share the posters for our next march.”

“I see. Where shall you put them?”

“On trees, and lampposts, I suppose,” she said. “Perhaps towards the East End. That’s where they’d be most useful, I think.”

“Isn’t that quite a walk?”

“It’s not too bad, really.”

Jack opened his mouth before he could convince himself to stay quiet. “I could– could give ‘ya a lift, if you’d like,” he offered. “On my bicycle, I mean.”

“Oh, Jack, wouldn’t want to trouble you,” Jane told him.

“It ain’t a trouble!” he said, and wondered if that came out too quickly? Too enthusiastically? “I just means that I finished me last lamp for the mornin’. I don’t need to light ‘em all again until the dusk.”

Jane grinned. “That's sweet of you," she said. "I wouldn’t mind the company. I’m sure you’d know much better than I would where the workers would see them.”

“I’ll do my best,” he promised.

“Then that’s our plan.” She nodded, and Jack gave a smile to match hers

Jane averted her eyes to look down at her plate for a moment, and Jack felt as though he’d been suddenly snapped back to reality. Ellen, he noticed, was trying – and failing – to hide _quite_ the grin. This time, there was no doubt in Jack’s mind: he was _sure_ his cheeks were reddening.

“Do eat up, Jack,” Michael thankfully broke the tension. “You’ll need it for all that cycling later, by the sounds of it.”

Jack nodded, a little sheepishly. “Thank you kindly, Mist-” he began, but corrected himself, “Thank you, Michael.”

The meal continued quietly, and happily. Once he’d finished, Jack leaned back in the chair: satisfied, full of food much better than he was used to, and full of the promise of time to spend with Jane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the lovely comments on chapter one! I wasn't expecting much of a response, but I've been convinced to continue this! :)  
> I hope you all enjoy this little addition as much as Jack enjoyed his breakfast!


	3. Chapter Three

Jack had always had a strange habit for carrying useless objects with him.

Bert used to say his pockets must be as magic as Mary Poppins’ carpet bag, since he was known for being able to produce anything Bert might need with no prior notice: clean handkerchiefs, a spare bootlace, lead pencils. On this particular day, Jack was very thankful for this strange propensity: Jane needed some nails.

“Drat! I remembered the hammer, but not the things the hammer’s needed for,” she grumbled, holding a stack of signs advertising her workers’ rally under one arm, a small hammer trailing from her other hand.

Jack stuck his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Hang on…” he murmured, going from the outside pockets, to the inside pockets, to the pockets of his trousers and back to the inside pockets of the jacket again as Jane’s expression grew more confused. “A-ha! Here we go!”

“You just happened to have those on you?” she questioned, taking a step towards him as he counted six small, annular nails in the palm of his hand.

Jack nodded. “I always seem to ‘ave bits and pieces in the bottom of pockets ‘an that,” he shrugged. “Ain’t too many, but better than nothin’, ain’t it?”

He handed the nails to Jane for her to inspect. She seemed to be pleased enough with them, taking one and slipping the rest into the pocket of her own trousers. She held one of the signs up against a fence outside one of the workhouses, lining up the nail. She asked Jack to pass her the hammer she’d set down on the pavement.

“Do ‘ya want me to do that for ‘ya, Jane?”

Jane turned her head towards him. “I’m perfectly capable,” she raised her eyebrows, challenging him to argue with her. He held his hands up, grinning to himself as he reached to pick up the hammer and handed it to her. She held it firmly in her left hand – is she left-handed, Jack wondered? – as her right held the nail steady against the gatepost. She knocked it in confidently, standing back to admire her work.

“A job well done,” she concluded. Jack agreed.

Their morning passed at a steady pace, cycling around on Jack’s bicycle from site to site, posting up signs and handing out flyers as they went – until they ran out of nails, that is. Once they had finished with the signs, and grown bored of giving leaflets to strangers, they found themselves strolling through the narrow streets of the East End, Jack pushing his bike as Jane walked beside him.

“I’m not sure about you,” he said. “But I could be doin’ with some food.”

Jane made a noise of agreement. “We could go back to the house. I’m sure Ellen would have something. Leftovers from breakfast, even.”

“Hhm. Could do… Or, a better idea,” Jack suggested light-heartedly. “There’s a fish n’ chips shop up nearby, ‘side the river.”

Jane laughed, unexpectedly. “That sounds lovely, Jack.”

And so they walked on until they found the shop; Jane stood outside with the bicycle while Jack went inside and bought their food – he insisted on paying, of course – before coming out with two handfuls of food, each wrapped in newspaper.

“They smell fantastic,” Jane said, taking one from him as they each took one handle of the bike, pushing it together towards the bench at the end of the road. Leaning it against the wall behind them, they sat down together and began to eat.

“Ya’ know, in rhymin’ slang, these is called a bag of Jockeys,” Jack told her as he swallowed a bite.

“A bag of what?”

“Jockeys – Jockey’s whips,” Jack said. “Ya’ know – chips.”

Jane laughed through a mouthful of food. “I’ve never heard that one before.”

“Well, ya’ see now, you ain’t spendin’ enough time around Leeries,” Jack winked. He worried for a second that that had been too forward, but was reassured by the easy smile Jane gave in his direction.

“Well, in that case… Perhaps I’d better eat lunch with a Leerie more often?” She looked at him expectantly.

Jack’s stomach tightened as she held his eyes, waiting. Was she really asking to spend more time with him? Why on Earth was a good girl like Jane Banks asking a lamplighter to have lunch with her? And how could Jack even think of entertaining her? He was just a Leerie – fish and chips by the side of the Thames was about as much as he could afford, and she was used to good, proper meals cooked by a housekeeper. Fumbling over what to say, he avoided the question somewhat: “It ain’t nothin’ fancy, Jane.”

She bit her lip as if pondering what exactly to say. After a moment, she simply stated, “I just mean that I wouldn’t say no if you asked.”

Jack’s eyes snapped up. He looked at her for a moment, hardly daring to believe his ears. “Jane, I – I can’t afford to take ‘ya out for nice meals or nothin’ like that, 'ya know.”

She shrugged her shoulders in a way that, curiously,  Jack could only think that Mary Poppins would call _most unladylike_. “I don’t want you to take me out to fancy dinners,” she told him. “I just meant… Whatever you might ask. I’d still say yes.”

“You’d like for me to ask ‘ya out someplace?”

“I would. If you’d like that too, of course.”

“Oh, I would.”

Jane grinned. “Then ask me.”

“Well… How about a walk in the park? Tomorrow?”

She nodded. “I’d like that very much,” she picked up her food again, but before she took another bite, she added, “Your cheeks are all red, by the way.”

Jack grumbled as he continued eating, smiling sheepishly through a mouthful of food at the sound of Jane giggling at him.

Once they had finished, they agreed to call a day on their flyer-posting mission so that Jack could be home in time to make his evening rounds, lighting the lamps. Instead of cycling, they walked back, Jack pushing his bike and Jane walking by his side, just as they’d done earlier; this time, however, her arm was looped through his.

When they reached Cherry Tree Lane, Jack opened the gate for her.

“Ever the gentleman,” she smiled.

Jack tipped his hat. “Vanishin’ breed, that’s me.”

He walked her right to the front door, even though there really was no need. The pair were quiet, just looking at one another happily, neither wanting the other to leave. In a moment of unusual forwardness – before he could think twice – Jack reached out to take Jane’s hands in his.

“I’ll see you tomorrow mornin’, then?” he asked softly.

Jane nodded. “Bright and early,” she told him, tilting her head upwards as she smiled.

Jack was so engrossed in her smile that he hardly even registered the door being opened.

“Ah, Jane, you’re home,” Ellen’s voice snapped him back to reality as he looked towards the source of the voice, confused. _Oh, it’s Ellen… Oh, she’s grinnin’ like a Cheshire cat again_ , Jack thought to himself. On a related thought, he realised that he was still holding Jane’s hands and dropped them quickly; he shoved them into his pockets like a child caught doing something he shouldn’t. Jane couldn’t help but snicker, but made no comment.

“I am, Ellen, thank you,” she took a step inside the door. “Goodnight, Jack.”

“Goodnight, Jane,” he replied. Awkwardly, he added, “G’night, Ellen.”

Jane walked further inside the house, leaving Ellen to close the door. Once she was far enough away, Ellen winked – _winked!_ – at Jack. Instead of being as embarrassed as he probably should've been, Jack couldn’t help but find it hilarious: he knew how mortified Jane would be if she had seen.

“Goodnight to you, Jack,” Ellen said cheerfully as she closed the door.  “I’m sure I’ll be seeing more of you around this house.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live for Ellen being embarrassing.  
> PS: Anyone catch the little reference to Bert's line in Jolly Holiday?


End file.
